Of Werewolves and Boys-Who-Live
by thosedarndursleys
Summary: Remus Lupin lost everything on that horrible night nearly ten Halloweens ago. Now, standing in front of him, is the one person he lost that he didn't have to. Remus was forced to abandon Harry Potter before, but never again. He needs to make up for ten lost years with his mates' son, and try to be the father figure the boy lost when he was too young to understand it. No slash.
1. Prologue

**Disclalimer: I do not own the story of Harry Potter, the Wizarding world, or any of its inhabitants. They all belong to JK Rowling.**

* * *

Prologue

Remus Lupin nearly dropped his yet-to-be-sipped tumbler when the barkeep's hushed voice silenced the pub.

"Bless my soul… it's Harry Potter."

Like the rest of the occupants of the Leaky Cauldron, Remus' eyes immediately locked on to the small, raven-haired boy. Standing next to Hagrid, he appeared even slighter than he would have otherwise, and his green eyes, opened wide in shock, lit up the shabby room. All at once there was a great scraping of chairs and every mid-morning customer rushed forward to meet the legendary child.

Remus had to force his muscles into submission as he sneaked to the back shadows of the pub. He longed to—no, _needed_ to—meet the boy, but for vastly different reasons than the others. This wasn't simply the child who saved the Wizarding world from Lord Voldemort. This was Harry, James and Lily's son. The only child of his late best friends. Every part of Remus' being needed to go to the boy, to meet him again for the first time in ten years, but he couldn't.

Remus was aware that Harry had grown up with Lily's muggle relatives, and could remember hearing horror stories of how vile they were from Lily, herself. Remus had begged Albus Dumbledore to allow him to take Harry in, but had been denied, due to his condition. It was always due to his condition. The damn lycanthropy ruined everything.

How was Remus supposed to explain to an eleven year old that he was less-fit as a guardian than magic-hating bigots?

No, he couldn't go to the boy.

And it shattered every bit of his soul that Remus had managed to piece back together since that dreadful night nearly ten Halloweens ago.

Watching the boy become acquainted with a woman who called herself Doris Crockford, Remus stuck to the shadows as he left through the front door of the Leaky Cauldron, back to muggle London.

It wasn't until the pub door sealed itself that he finally allowed his gaze to leave Harry Potter.

Remus headed toward an empty alleyway, deciding that apparating home to drown his memories in a more private manner was probably a more appropriate plan.

* * *

Remus had gotten only two sips into his scotch before he banished it from his tumbler. With a wave of his wand, the glass was cleaned and sent back to the cabinet. After ten years of numbing his feelings, it just didn't feel right anymore.

He had always been a quiet man; studious; reserved. He had let very few people into his personal life over the years—only four, in fact. Well, four and a baby. And in one night he had lost every single one of them.

Oh well. Alcohol was a simpler confidant, anyway.

Until today. Remus couldn't blame the time. He had been driven to mid-day drinking on multiple occasions throughout his life—after a difficult full moon or when job searching, trying to find a way around his "furry little problem."

No, the position of the sun wasn't to blame.

It was still, in fact, his mates' son that was stealing his thoughts enough to block out the need for an alcohol-induced daze.

Harry. Oh, Harry. Remus had been given the perfect chance to meet him. The ideal situation to sit down and explain his shortcomings as a best friend; his stigma that had caused him to abandon the only child to ever steal his heart. And he had just walked away.

What had he been thinking?

Rising from a chaise lounge that was far too old to be comfortable anymore, Remus crossed the room to the desk that was tucked in the corner. He sat down, pulled out parchment, a quill, and ink, and began to write. He wrote to the only person who could help him. The only person that knew just how much the decision to give Harry to the Dursleys had destroyed him. To the person that had made that very decision in the first place.

Remus swallowed his pride, bitterness, and hurt; he wrote to Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

It took only two hours for Albus to reply. To Remus' surprise (and unfathomable relief), Dumbledore had validated his need to meet the boy. The headmaster had even gone so far as to mention the possibility of Remus beginning an ongoing relationship with Harry.

Now Remus was nervous.

And incredibly excited. He had waited for, _longed_ for, this opportunity for nearly a decade and it was finally right in front of him.

Albus had told him to wait until Harry was settled into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After the child adjusted to his new surroundings and schedule, Remus could go to the old castle to meet him.

He would have to wait another two months, but Remus knew he could do it. Harry Potter, James and Lily's boy, was worth the wait.


	2. The Note

Chapter 1: The Note

Harry Potter looked up from his breakfast when he heard somebody calling his name.

Looking up, he saw Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, walking toward him, a rolled up piece of parchment in his hand.

"Potter, McGonagall asked me to give this to you," he said, handing over the scroll. "Oh, and meet me on the Quidditch field at seven to start your training, yeah?"

Harry nodded absently, his eyes glued to the parchment in front of him. "Yeah, see you."

He didn't notice Wood leaving, but he didn't particularly care at the moment. His mind was too focused on trying to figure out why McGonagall would have sent him a note. Did she know about the failed attempt at a Wizard's duel last night? Did she somehow see them in the trophy room?

Did she know they were in the third floor corridor?

Harry's stomach churned as he forced himself to untie the rope around the scroll. Might as well just find out already.

_Potter,_

_The headmaster has requested for you to come to his office_

_today after lunch. He will excuse you from your following_

_lesson. Please be punctual._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

His stomach was now in his feet—as much as a puddle as it would have been if Harry had sicked up. Why did Dumbledore want to see him? He must know about the forbidden corridor, there was no other viable reason. Harry had only been at Hogwarts for a month and he was already going to be expelled.

Great job, Potter.

Well, if he was the only one being summoned to Dumbledore's office, he wasn't going to rock the boat. There was no reason to bring Ron, Neville, and Hermione into it. They couldn't be expelled—they all had families to go home to. Families who would be angry, disappointed. The worst thing Harry would face would be going back to the Dursleys.

Now he truly felt sick.

Setting his jaw and raising his chin, he slid the note into the pocket of his robes. He was a Gryffindor. Brave. He wouldn't let this get him into a panic. Maybe there was still hope.

At Ron's questioning, he told him the note was just McGonagall reiterating Wood's orders to meet him for practice in the evening.

Only minutes later, six owls, amongst dozens of others, carried in a long, thin package, dropping it in front of Harry's breakfast. Reading his second letter of the morning (from Professor McGonagall, no less), he discovered it was a broom. As Harry and Ron left the Great Hall to leave it in the safety of their dormitory, Harry's mind spun.

If McGonagall was giving him a new broomstick, Harry couldn't be getting expelled, right? They wouldn't buy him something meant for school, only to kick him out hours later.

Now Harry was really confused.

Ron's excitement over the broom was contagious, however, and Harry quickly found himself grinning at the jealousy on Draco Malfoy's face when he was told that Harry was the exception to the first-years-aren't-permitted-to-have-broomsticks rule. He even continued smiling through Hermione Granger's scolding over disobeying Madam Hooch's no-flying order and being rewarded with not only a new broom, but a position on the House Quidditch team.

Rushing off to unwrap the source of the morning drama, Harry completely forgot about McGonagall's first note. It was pushed to the back of his mind, only to be remembered when he put his hand in his robe pocket halfway through Herbology nearly an hour later.

* * *

Harry rushed through lunch, not that he was able to eat much. He had worried over why Dumbledore would want to meet with him all morning, and he was ready to get it over with.

Ron had barely started into his second helping of roast when Harry excused himself. Making an excuse about needing to talk to Professor McGonagall about his broomstick, he left the Great Hall quickly (before the red-head could decide to tag along).

It took Harry nearly fifteen minutes to find the stone gargoyle that he had been directed to. In the bottom corner of McGonagall's note, underneath the instructions to find said gargoyle, was the phrase "Licorice Wands." Assuming that was the password, he relayed it to the motionless gargoyle, only to watch it come to life and jump to the side a moment later.

Harry stepped onto the moving, spiral staircase that just been revealed, allowing it to lead him to a single door. Before he could knock, Albus Dumbledore's placid voice called, beckoning Harry inside.

He opened the office door to find the headmaster sitting behind his desk. Across from Dumbledore, sitting in a chair that was facing away from Harry, was a man with light brown hair and shabby robes. The man had turned to look at Harry as he walked through the door, an amiable smile brightening his tired face.

Harry gave a tentative, but friendly smile back as he approached both the desk and the two men.

"Harry! Wonderful to see you, my boy," Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he approached. He gestured to a padded chair across from his desk, next to the pallid man. "Have a seat. You're no doubt wondering why I've called you here."

"Erm, yes sir," Harry sat down, hoping he didn't appear as nervous as he felt. The man next to him was still smiling, and while Harry liked him so far (due to the man's friendly demeanor), he was still clueless as to why he had been summoned.

"This, Harry," Dumbledore announced, his eyes twinkling, if possible, even more. "Is Remus Lupin. He was a friend of your parents during their time here at Hogwarts, and even afterward."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked, forgetting his manners. He could feel his eyes, growing wider by the second, fill with the smallest bit of moisture as he searched the stranger's face.

"I did; they were two of my best mates," Remus Lupin smiled and leaned forward a bit in his chair, angled toward Harry. "Actually, I even had the chance to know you when you were just a baby. I regret that I haven't been able to see you since then, though."

Harry's mind stopped. This man knew him? Had known him before his parents had died?

"I-I'm sorry, Sir, I don't remember you," he said, not quite knowing what to say.

"Please, Harry, call me Remus," There was that smile again. Harry felt himself relaxing marginally. "It's quite alright that you don't remember me. I wouldn't expect you to, even. You were quite young."

Harry was quiet for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. He had no idea how meeting a single person could addle his brain so much, but he was having trouble forming coherent thoughts.

He looked at Professor Dumbledore and, receiving an encouraging nod, said the only thing that would stay in his mind long enough to communicate.

"Sir—erm, Remus," Harry dropped his gaze, studying his school shoes. "Can you tell me about them?"

"Of course," Harry could hear the smile in his voice, so he looked up and met Remus' eyes again. "Where would you like to start, Harry?"


	3. Remus Lupin

Disclalimer: I do not own the story of Harry Potter, the Wizarding world, or any of its inhabitants. They all belong to JK Rowling.

**A/N: There is a section of this chapter that focuses on Remus' transformation. It begins when "the beast" is mentioned. It is not graphic, but it still may not be appropriate for everyone. Reader discretion is advised.**

Chapter 2: Remus Lupin

Remus wasn't sure how long he talked. He told Harry about James' skill when it came to Quidditch; about his mischievous side. He told him how long James had pined after Lily before she actually gave in and went on a date with him. He told Harry about his mother's inherent kindness, and her talent when it came to charms.

Remus told him stories of James and Lily as they raised Harry for that first year, and every time one story would end, the smile on the boy's face would convince Remus to continue on to another one. Not once during the hour and a half did the conversation die down, between Remus' stories and Harry's questions, and when Dumbledore announced that their time was up, Remus felt conflicted.

The look in Harry's eyes told him how much those stories of his parents meant to the boy, but Remus felt like something was missing. He had spent over an hour with Harry and hadn't managed to ask the child a single question about himself. Harry didn't seem to have noticed, however, and the expression on his face calmed the worry had settled within Remus.

There would be time for questions later.

"I'm very pleased that you two have been able to reconnect in this way, but I'm sorry to say that our time has run out," Albus stood from his chair, and Remus and Harry took that as their cue to do the same. "Harry has class in a few moments, and we wouldn't want him to be late."

Remus watched as Harry looked from the headmaster, to Remus, and then back. After a few moments, Harry's gaze landed on Remus again, his mouth poised to speak, but no words came out.

"What is it, Harry?" Remus stifled a chuckle. The boy was nearly an exact copy of his father, but he had never seen this much innocence on James' face.

Harry dropped eye contact and studied the pattern on the rug. If it weren't for Remus' werewolf-heightened senses, he might not have heard the child's question.

"D'you think you'll come back another time?"

Remus smiled and leaned down, lowering his head until he caught the boy's eye again.

"I would like that very much," The emerald eyes across from him brightened, and Remus allowed them to inspire his next statement. "Perhaps, if Professor Dumbledore doesn't mind, I can come back on Saturday with some photos of your parents that we can look through. I'd love to get to know you a bit as well."

Harry's eyes darted to the headmaster, and Remus followed his lead. Albus chuckled at the two sets of hopeful eyes in front of him. "Of course," Albus answered. Remus stood, more pleased than he thought possible, and Harry had to force himself not to bounce in place from excitement. "Hagrid and I will be running an errand this weekend. I'm certain he won't mind allowing you two his hut while we are away. I will have some lunch sent out on Saturday afternoon."

"Thank you, Albus."

"Thank you, Professor!"

"It's my pleasure, boys. Now," Dumbledore made his way to the office door, the other two following behind. "Harry, enjoy your lesson and I will see you at dinner tonight."

Harry nodded in response, and Remus watched as the smile on his face refused to drop.

"Goodbye, Harry," he said, when the boy stood at the threshold, looking at him as if searching for words to say. "I'll see you Saturday."

"See you," Harry's smile fell, only to be replaced by a shyer version of itself. "And thank you—for the stories."

"Thank _you_, Harry. Now, off with you. Don't want to be late." With a hand on his shoulder, Remus steered him out of the door, watching him as he descended the staircase.

When it was only the werewolf and the headmaster left in the office, there was a moment of silence. Remus didn't know what to say, and Albus didn't feel anything needed to be said. After coming up empty for a topic of conversation, Remus said the one thing that had taken over his mind.

"Thank you, Dumbledore. Thank you."

* * *

Remus' first priority upon returning home was finding his old pictures of Lily and James. His cottage on the outskirts of London was, for the most part, bare. He had moved in nearly four years ago, but had never bothered to decorate.

Now, however, finally seemed to be the time. After spending the afternoon with Harry, Remus wanted to dust off the old memories—not only for Harry's benefit, but for his own.

After a fit of full moon-induced rage nearly destroyed all proof of the past, Remus had packed any of the reminders he could find into his old school trunk and put them away for safe-keeping. Now, eight years later, he wandered through his the attic, looking for the tell-tale sign of faded burgundy.

He found the trunk, worn and dust-covered, in the back corner of the attic. It took mere seconds to levitate it down the fold-up stairs and into his bedroom. There, he sat on the bed and sorted through the past. Anything appropriate for an eleven-year-old was laid out on the mattress, while Remus tucked the rest back into the trunk for later. Harry would hear those stories someday, but now was not the time.

The trunk was moved to the bottom of Remus' wardrobe, to be examined at a later date.

For now, Remus contented himself to pack what he would bring to Hogwarts and place it by the floo.

When everything was set for his visit on Saturday, Remus prepared a cup of tea and propped his feet up on the warn chaise. It would be four days before he would see Harry again, and only one day before the full moon. He could feel the effects of the lycanthropy already; had been able to feel them for the past few days. Remus was looking forward to getting the full moon over with and having time to rest before seeing Harry.

As he lay there, his peppermint tea long forgotten, Remus' mind wandered, once more, to the past. The familiar weight of betrayal and grief punched him in the throat as he remembered the picture he had tucked in his pocket earlier, as he was going through photos for Harry.

His right hand wandered to his breast pocket and he pulled out the photo. James and Sirius, from over fifteen years ago, were grinning up at him; Sirius taking the opportunity to dig his knuckles into James' ribs, making James lose himself in a silent fit of laughter. Remus caught himself smiling and quickly hid the picture in the drawer of an end table. Now was not the time to think of the two mates that were torn apart by an unexpected betrayal. Remus couldn't afford to lose himself in trying to figure out Sirius' motives. He had wasted too many years wallowing in the past. Harry was not ready to hear that part of the story, so Remus decided to tuck it away for a later date, and save himself some heartache.

At one point during the evening, Remus fell asleep on the lounge chair. He awoke with a start hours later to find that the sun had long since gone down. Stopping by the kitchen on his way to bed, Remus dumped his untouched tea and placed it in the sink, promising himself he'd wash it in the morning.

* * *

The beast gained awareness and found that he was trapped once again. Back in the depths of his foggy, brutish mind, the beast remembered a time when he would run free, with companions, fresh air, and moonlight. Now he was imprisoned; surrounded by stone.

Instinct immediately overtook the beast and he rammed the doorway, fighting against the confinement. The only tangible thought in his crowded mind was that he must leave this space.

_Out. Out. Out._

The beast continued to attack the threshold, but received no relief.

_Out. Out. Out. Out. Out._

Blow after blow, bang after bang, hit the door.

_OUT. OUT. OUT. OUT. OUT._

The beast let out a mighty, throaty, growl and hurled his entire being at his target.

_Pain!_

_ OUT. OUT. OUT!_

_Pain!_

_ HUNGER._

At the scent of blood, the beast paused momentarily. Within a second, escape was the last thing on his mind.

The smell of the warm, coppery liquid released some of the frustration within the beast, and he felt a barbaric, brutal pleasure.

_More._

_ Pain!_

_ More._

_ Pain!_

_ MORE._

_ Pain!_

Darkness.

* * *

Remus Lupin awoke in the darkness of his cellar to sharp agony on his right side. He gave himself a few moments to get his bearings before bringing a hand down to assess the damage.

During these moments Remus forced his mind to focus on his surroundings, rather than the pain flaring through his body. The sconces on the walls were dark, which was evident by his lack of vision. Remus could feel the stone floor beneath him, warm from his own body heat and, he assumed, his blood.

Bringing his palm down to his side, Remus' assumption was proven right when it came back wet. He forced himself into a sitting position and, after taking a moment to catch his breath, he scooted himself back to the wall. He waited to catch his breath once again and then began making his way around the perimeter of the room, his back skimming the wall. He stopped when his skin reached cold metal.

Remus turned to the muggle lockbox that he had installed into the wall of his cellar and blindly entered the lock code. The small door opened silently, allowing Remus to reach in and retrieve his wand. He wordlessly used the piece of cypress to light the candles along the walls.

After closely evaluating his injuries, Remus used a few spells to close his wounds and clean up the blood. He reached into the lockbox once more and pulled out the only other object within it. Remus grasped the vile in one hand and uncorked it with the other. He mindlessly drank the potion, allowing the bitter liquid slip down his throat. He only had a moment to feel it begin to numb the pain before exhaustion overtook him again, and he succumbed to darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for taking the time to read this chapter! I love and appreciate all of the follows and reviews I received for my last two posts. Please leave my any feedback you can think of-I'm not afraid of constructive criticism :) Also, I'd like to apologize for the slow start for this story. It will pick up in pace soon; I promise!**

**Thanks again!**


	4. Forgotten Treacle Tart

Disclalimer: I do not own the story of Harry Potter, the Wizarding world, or any of its inhabitants. They all belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter Three: Forgotten Treacle Tart

Harry's time at Hogwarts had been brilliant from day one, but nothing could compare to his elation in the week following Remus' first visit. His Quidditch practice had gone better than expected, he had gotten to fly and _own_ the best broom on the market, he had stories of his parents to mull over in his free time, and he and Ron had taken up wondering what was being guarded by the three-headed dog. Overall, his week had been wonderfully exciting.

"When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley this summer for my supplies, he picked up a package for Dumbledore—said it was very secret." Harry was sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, ignoring the half-completed Charms essay in front of him. "It was even in the same vault that was broken into at Gringotts; he got it out just before it was too late."

"I bet that's it. It's too much of a coincidence not to be, don't you think?" Ron bit the off head of the chocolate frog in his hand, his essay even more pitiful than his friend's. "Was it big?"

"No—hardly the size of a fist."

"Well, if it's hidden beneath that monster it must be really dangerous… or valuable!" Ron sat up straighter, his eyes opening wide, excited at the prospect of something worth that much protection.

"Or both," Harry's forehead wrinkled in thought and both boys fell silent, any idea of homework far from their minds.

By quarter past eleven, the two had temporarily given up their investigation and headed up to bed. The Charms essay wasn't due until last period on Friday, after all. They had fifteen hours—what else was lunch time for, anyway?

* * *

By Saturday morning, Harry was a fit of nerves, both nervous about Remus' next visit and excited to hear more about his parents.

The stories that he had heard at the beginning of the week had kept his mind busy for days, and he had spent long nights trying to imagine each scene. He was looking forward to seeing pictures of his parents, and knew they would make his late-night musings that much easier.

Harry even told himself that he didn't have to be nervous to see Remus again. He had been very nice, and had seemed more than willing to pay another visit so soon, but Harry hoped he hadn't pushed the man too far. He cringed when he thought of his mumbled, passive-aggressive request for him to come back again. Yeah, the man definitely thought he was some sodding toddler stuck in an eleven-year-old's body.

Once again, great job, Potter.

He tried not to stress as he sat down at the breakfast table, Ron taking his place beside him. Harry would just have to make a better impression this time—show Remus that he could be the man that Harry was beginning to see that his father had been.

With that thought in mind, Harry left Ron at quarter to twelve and headed down to Hagrid's hut. Ron hardly looked up from his chess game against Neville (at which Neville was being beaten so badly that his pieces began to disobey his orders and play to their own commands), which Harry was glad for. He was beginning to feel like the child that had met Remus just four days earlier, and he needed the solitary walk toward the grounds to strengthen his resolve to act his age.

* * *

The front door to Hagrid's hut was open when Harry approached the wooden house, and he could smell the lunch variety within it as it wafted out to the grounds.

"Harry!" Remus called, walking out of the threshold to meet the boy. "Great to see you. How were your classes, then?"

Harry returned Remus' smile and found himself relaxing once again, the firm pep-talk that he had given himself on the walk over promptly leaving his mind. "They were alright. I'm glad it's over for the week."

The man's amber eyes lit up and a deep chuckle escaped his throat. "I don't blame you there, Harry. They definitely do pile on the homework, don't they?"

"Yes, sir," Harry half-grumbled and half-chuckled. "And how was your week?"

"Fine, just fine," he said amiably. "How about some lunch then, hmm? Professor Dumbledore sent down some tea that smells fantastic."

The two made their way into the hut and sat down at the giant table, making polite small talk as they did so. Once the both of them had served their plates, the room fell into a soft silence.

"So Harry," Remus interrupted the quiet after placing his mug back on the table. "What are some of the things you like to do?"

Harry finished his bite of a turkey sandwich and needlessly cleared his throat. "Well, erm, I've really been enjoying Quidditch recently. I've only had one practice so far, but Wood—that's the team captain—says we'll practice both days this weekend. He really wants to win the cup this year," he said animatedly.

"Quidditch?" Remus' eyes widened and his smile grew. "You're on the team? You're only a first year!"

"Yeah," Harry grew shy for a moment before his excitement took over once more. "I'm the youngest Seeker in a century!"

"Wow, you really have inherited your dad's talent then, hm? He played Chaser, but was fair at Seeking as well." Harry smiled brightly and Remus continued. "How did you manage to get on the team, then? Professor McGonagall wouldn't let first years anywhere near Quidditch try-outs back when your dad and I were in school."

Harry felt his face flush and he began to explain his first flying lesson.

"…So Malfoy picked up Neville's Rememberall and flew off with it. I followed him, but when I told him to give it back, he threw it."

He looked timidly through his fringe at the man across from him, gauging his reaction. Harry wasn't sure if he'd react like McGonagall or Hermione Granger.

"And you chased after it?"

Harry nodded.

"Wow, Harry. That was very dangerous, but wow…" Remus paused for a moment, and Harry braced himself for the scolding. "You caught it? And it was your first time on a broom?"

Harry was surprised to say the least, and more than a little relieved. "Yeah! For a moment there I thought I was going to run into the castle wall, but I caught it and turned before it was too late." Harry could feel himself beaming as Remus ran a hand through his greying hair.

"Harry, that's brilliant, but promise me something," He leaned forward and gave the boy a small smile. "Promise me you'll be careful."

Harry was taken aback, his mind going blank at the request. He nodded after a moment.

"I will, Sir. I promise." He watched the man sit back again, and felt the tension leave the air.

"Thank you," Remus' smile grew and Harry smiled back this time.

The two stacked their plates after Remus cleaned them with a couple spells. The stack of leftover food and cutlery disappeared, leaving behind treacle tart, two plates, and two spoons. After serving each of them a portion, Remus removed a stack of pictures from his robe pocket and pushed them across the table.

Harry could feel his shoulders tense in anticipation as he brought his eyes down to the photographs. The topmost one on the stack displayed a young woman, her fiery red hair and shocking green eyes—_my eyes_—stealing his attention. He pulled his gaze away in order to look at the man standing beside her. He had dark hair and glasses, a mischievous smile framing straight, shining teeth. The woman—_mum—_was laughing at something that had been said, and the man—_dad_—was gazing at her fondly. Harry stared at the couple for a few moments before remembering who had brought the picture in the first place.

"I look like my dad?"

"The spitting image," Remus smiled, and Harry could feel his grin broaden. "Except your eyes—those are your mum's."

Harry's eyes found their way back to the photo, and he reached out a hand, running his fingers over Lily's hair and James' hands.

"Thank you," he looked up at Remus, and could feel his tears beginning to form in his eyes. He wanted to blink them away, but his mind was too focused on his parents and what the man sitting at the table had given him—proof that his parents had truly existed. They were no longer just names in stories or curses that came out of his aunt's and uncle's mouths.

Remus tentatively reached out his own hand and ruffled the boy's hair. Harry felt his chest warm at the touch—no one had ever done that to him before.

"There are plenty more where that came from. Look at the next one."

The pair spent the next two hours looking at photos their dessert forgotten; Remus providing commentary for Harry when it came to the back story for each picture. Through each tale, Harry found himself not only getting to know who his parents had been, but also who Remus was. He was enjoying himself immensely, and, without realizing it, had dropped the title, "sir," by the time all of the photographs had been placed back into a neat stack.

"Thanks, Remus, this really meant a lot," Harry could feel himself positively beaming and couldn't find it within himself to feel ashamed.

Remus reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, offering a rather large smile of his own. "Of course, Harry," He dropped his hand back to the table, and Harry felt a strange sense of loss as he did so. "Would you like to pick a few of them to keep?"

The feeling of loss was gone, replaced by a joy that Harry didn't think he would ever get used to. "Really? Are you certain?"

"Absolutely. Pick out your favorites; you can take them back to your dorm with you."

Harry chose six pictures—one of his mum that was taken during her seventh year; one of his dad taken during his third; one of the two of them on their wedding day; one of the couple standing in front of a cottage, a small baby in their arms; one of the same baby—himself—being held by his mum on his first Christmas, his dad sitting beside them; and one of baby-him standing up, wobbly on his feet, a much younger version of Remus behind him with his arms out to help him up if he fell.

Harry tucked the photos carefully into a pocket of his robes and walked up to the castle with Remus. When they reached the entrance, Harry was at a loss for words. How do you thank the man who just had validated your entire existence; proven that you were once cherished and loved?

He didn't need to find the words to say, however, because Remus crouched down, making Harry's short frame angle slightly downward in order to make eye contact.

"Thank you, Harry. I cannot imagine a better way to spend my afternoon," He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder again. "I enjoyed getting to know you a bit, and hope we can do it again soon."

"Definitely," Harry grinned before his brow wrinkled. "Will—will you be around for the first Quidditch game of the season? It's Gryffindor versus Slytherin."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Remus smiled at the boy and stood up. "But I'll see you before then, yes?"

"'Course!" He immediately felt foolish for his exuberant response, but the feeling was pushed away when he saw Remus' eyes light up.

"I'll be in touch, then. Take care of yourself, and study hard."

Harry smiled at the reminders, enjoying the way they sounded when directed at him. "I will. See you, Remus."

"See you," The boy watched Remus grin once more before turning toward the Entrance Hall and crossing the threshold. He was immediately met by Ron, who pelted him with questions about the meeting, and missed Remus watching him, a grin still on his face, until Harry disappeared from view.

* * *

**A/N: The feedback I've gotten so far has been fantastic—thank you all so much! If you have an comments, criticisms, recommendations, etc., please feel free to share them with me! I love every response that I get. Thank you for taking the time to check out the new update! I'll try to have another one up within the next week :)**


	5. Begging for It to Last

Disclalimer: I do not own the story of Harry Potter, the Wizarding world, or any of its inhabitants. They all belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter Four: Begging for It to Last

Remus felt a now-familiar tug in his chest as he laid the letter down on his kitchen table. The final words of the note ran through his mind, bringing a smile to his face.

…_I have loads to tell you on Saturday. Can't wait to see you. _

_Harry_

Remus had been nervous the first time he wrote to the boy. It had been merely two days since their first Saturday meeting, but Remus couldn't help himself. He shoved aside his insecurities and worries and penned him a short note, saying he only wished to say hello and wish him a good school week. He had been pleasantly surprised—no, _thrilled_—when he received a reply later that day from an amiable Harry, asking him how the rest of his weekend had gone.

It had been two weeks since he had received that first letter, and Remus had seen him twice since then—each Saturday.

They had developed an easy-going routine. Letters were sent every other day, giving each recipient plenty of time to respond, and Remus traveled to Hogwarts on Saturdays, where the werewolf and the boy shared a picnic lunch on the grounds (as Hagrid was no longer running errands with Dumbledore) until Harry had to leave for Quidditch practice. The two had become comfortable with each other, and the weekend visits were easily the highlight of Remus' week.

Not that there was much for them to compete against, though.

Each Monday, Thursday, and Friday, Remus would go out and search for jobs. After time and time again of being rejected because of his condition, he switched to looking for odd jobs rather than steady ones. Just about every trip out he would find an elderly witch or wizard that needed help with some task around the house. Remus would gladly get to work, leaving his contact information at the end of the day, should they ever need assistance in the future.

It was not a dependable way of making ends meet, but it was the best Remus had been able to do in years. He was able to pay his mortgage and buy groceries; he knew that was all he could ask for.

On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Remus had made it a point to work on his own cottage. Meeting Harry had inspired him to put his life back together, and finally setting up his home had seemed to be the best way to start. He had cleaned it from top to bottom, adding long-term charms to the windows to allow more light into each room. When he had extra money left over from his odd jobs, he would buy paint from a near-by muggle store and touch up the walls and ceilings, trying his best to brighten one room at a time. He bought new mugs, glasses, plates, bowls, and silverware as his budget allowed it, and while none of them ever truly matched, he felt a small sense of pride at seeing his kitchen cabinets well-stocked.

Remus had never been so excited over renovations before, and was planning to move on to the guest room after the kitchen was presentable. It would be another month or two, but he was confident that he would be able to have company over by Christmas.

Remus pulled himself from his thoughts with a shake of his head and rose from his seat at the kitchen table, taking his dishes to the sink and beginning to wash them. He didn't know why it had suddenly become so important to him that he be able to have houseguests. It wasn't as if he had anyone to entertain except for Harry.

Harry.

There it was—the truth that Remus had been pushing back in his mind for weeks now. He was preparing his home for Harry, hoping that one day he would be able to invite the boy over for tea, or for Christmas dinner. His visits at Hogwarts had been going so well, and he couldn't help but hope their meetings would continue even when Harry wasn't at the castle.

Remus scoffed at himself and began to dry his juice glass. His brain must have become addled over the years—Harry had no reason to visit him over the holidays. He had a family of his own. A family who had been there for him for the past ten years. Remus' opinions about Lily's muggle relatives aside, he had no reason to assume Harry was unhappy with his family. He had never mentioned them, and, for some reason Remus couldn't think of, Remus had never asked.

Perhaps he was worried that his original image of Lily's sister had been misled. Maybe she had grown up over the last few years; let go of the bitterness she had once held toward the Wizarding world. Of course she had. She had taken in her Lily's son as her own. Harry was already loved and cared for. The last thing he needed for his holiday was to make a charity visit to a foolish man's house.

Remus put the clean dishes back into their respective cupboards and banished his thoughts of Harry's family. The child hadn't mentioned them, so he obviously had no problems. Remus would ask him about them eventually, but not yet. He didn't want to scare the boy off by asking questions that might be too personal.

He picked up Harry's letter on his way to the living room and chuckled as he read the last line once more. From what Remus could tell, Harry's life at Hogwarts was hectic, filled with school work and Quidditch practice, but he always had stories to tell Remus when he got there each weekend. Remus had heard stories of Harry's friend, Ron (whom Remus was very fond of, but had only said hello to when he went to meet Harry; he had yet to get to know the red-head very well). He had heard the tales of Harry's heated arguments with Draco Malfoy, and his visits with Hagrid. He had heard of play-by-plays of each Quidditch practice and dreadful Potions lesson.

Yes, Harry always had stories to tell to Remus, and the man would listen whole-heartedly. Watching the boy become more and more animated with each tale made his heart soar—he looked so much like James, but had Lily's story-telling ability. It was a captivating combination, and Remus found himself grateful to be able to experience it.

He placed Harry's letter in a photo box on his desk, with the others he had received over the past two weeks. He would write back to the boy later, but for now, he was content to kick his feet up, close his eyes, and count his blessings.

* * *

Remus forced himself to rise nearly an hour later and prepared himself to leave for Hogsmeade village. Through trial and error, he had found that mid- to late morning was the best time to approach locals about needed house or yard work, so he made it a point to leave an hour or so after breakfast.

He donned his thread-bare traveling cloak over his work clothes and walked out of the anti-apparition wards surrounding his cottage. He turned on his heel, and with a _pop!_ he found himself on the outskirts of the village. Walking toward the Three Broomsticks, Remus scoped the crowd for approachable shoppers.

This was the most awkward part of Remus' job plans. He felt like some sort of stalker as he walked the streets of random towns and villages, looking for people who might accept his help and who would be willing to pay him for it. He rounded a corner, his eyes sweeping each face, and his vision caught on two figures in a side alley near the Hog's Head. His werewolf senses grasped on to their conversation without Remus entirely meaning for them to.

"Halloween—I need it on Halloween," a cold, sharp voice demanded. It was a young man with his face covered by his cloak, his pale hands were the only patch of visible skin on him.

"That's rather short notice," a raspy voice came from the much shorter man next to him. While his stature was diminutive, his overall appearance was demanding. Even in the shadows next to the pub, his muscles were defined and a short temper was evident in his jerky movements.

"It's more than enough. Get it done, or the deal's off," The cloaked young man made to leave, turning even more into the shadows. "Just bring it to the village; I'll take care of it from here on."

With that, the pale hands disappeared, leaving the shorter man alone in the alley, his face shielded by the darkness.

Remus didn't know what to make of the exchange, but quickly dismissed it. He hadn't entirely meant to overhear, and Hogsmeade was full of businessmen—even the shady sort. It was just another trading arrangement that Remus knew he would rather not be caught up in.

He walked further toward the Three Broomsticks and caught the eye of an older woman carrying looked like a heavy bag of potting soil. He let out a relieved sigh and smiled. Luck was on his side today.

* * *

Remus walked back to the village, dirty and sore, as the sun was beginning to set. The woman lived about a quarter mile from the thoroughfare, and had gladly paid Remus to repot her mandrakes. They were teething and cranky at the moment, and had found their new relocation to be highly unsettling.

Remus stretched out his back and reached into his pocket, the feel of the newly-earned galleons a balm to his tender muscles. He retrieved his wand from the pocket of his cloak and cleaned himself with a few spells. It wouldn't do to be kicked out of the shops for smelling like a dungbomb.

He entered Tomes & Scrolls, the local bookshop, and ran his fingers over the spines on the nearest shelf. Pleasant memories flooded his mind of his time spent here with James, Peter, and Sirius griping about wanting to leave. Remus suppressed a chuckle—and the lump that formed in his throat—making his way to a familiar shelf. While the other two teenage boys had dreaded being dragged into the aged bookstore, James had partially shared Remus' love for it. Remus could remember James pouring over the titles in the History section, trying to find shocking titles to use as sources for Binns' essays.

Remus smiled as he quickly found the book he was searching for: _Impetuous Wizards Known for Being Exceptional_. It had been one of James' favorites—he had loved to use the examples within it while being lectured by McGonagall. It had never helped his case, but had always added some humor to the situation.

Taking the book from the shelf, Remus walked to the counter, pleased with himself. He knew Harry would enjoy reading one of his father's favorite books, and while Remus was wary to give Harry any reason to embrace his recklessness, he felt that it was his duty as James' friend to pass the book along to his son.

Remus felt strangely satisfied as he apparated home that evening. Life was finally coming together for him, and as he fell into bed, he sent up a silent prayer, begging for it to last.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your continuous support! It's really encouraging, and I really appreciate it :) I hope this chapter meets expectations. Please share any feedback you may have-comments, criticisms, praise, anything! Thank you, once again, for reading :)**


	6. Thump

Disclalimer: I do not own the story of Harry Potter, the Wizarding world, or any of its inhabitants. They all belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter 5: Thump

Harry was sprawled out on one of the common room's couches, his History of Magic essay in front of him. _Impetuous Wizards Known for Being Exceptional_ was propped on a cushion and he was thumbing through the chapter on Cletus Raisinwrinkle, a wizard born in the 18th century who had a bad habit of charming birds to have propellers on their heads. Unknowingly, a muggle sketch of his vice had inspired the first helicopter.

Harry combed through each page, looking for a way to relate the story to the newest assignment on the Goblin Rebellion, just as Remus had told him that James Potter used to with his own copy. It had been nearly four weeks since he had been gifted the book, but Harry made it a point to use it whenever possible. Not only did it make Professor Binns' class more tolerable, but it gave Harry a way to connect with his dad.

With each part of the story collection that Harry shared with Ron or chuckled at on his own, Harry was left wondering if his dad had the same reaction when he had read it. Being able to think of his dad as a real person, who had read the same books as he was now and walked the same hallways that Harry used daily, allowed Harry to feel closer to his parents, even though he couldn't remember them. Every time he opened the book, studied their pictures, or heard one of Remus' stories, Harry felt like his past was finally starting to make sense.

Harry dog-eared his current page and put the book and his essay back into his bag. He was tired. Between Quidditch practice, classes, and his meetings with Remus, Harry spent a lot of his time occupied. He loved staying busy with things that he actually enjoyed, rather than the chores that had taken up his time at Privet Drive. Not once since standing on Platform 9 ¾ did Harry miss his life with the Dursleys. Hogwarts was his home, and he couldn't imagine a better one.

His enjoyment, however, didn't negate his exhaustion. Just thinking about the Halloween feast that would take place in the evening added to his sleepiness, but he was excited nonetheless. The older students had spent the past week raving over the notorious dinner and Harry was shocked to find that it was already upon them.

The spirit of the holiday was dampened slightly by the fact that Harry hadn't seen Hermione Granger since Charms class that morning, but Ron was unfazed. The redhead was still sore over being shown up by her during their practice of the _Wingardium Leviosa_ spell. The lesson had ended with Ron calling her a nightmare—not to her face, but none too quietly—and Hermione rushing off in tears. Harry felt badly over the exchange between his friend and the head of his class, but chose not to say anything. His friendship with Ron was still fairly new, and he didn't want to muck it up by sounding accusatory. Plus, Hermione would bounce back, right?

Apparently not—Harry searched for her at the Gryffindor table when he and Ron went down to the feast, but her tell-tale bushy hair was nowhere in sight. He was going to say so to Ron, but the two of them heard Parvati Patil say something about Hermione being in the girls' loo, crying. Harry's stomach performed an odd turn and he could see Ron's ears turn red. Neither of them had expected the comment to have such long-lasting effects.

The food that arrived at each house table distracted the boys momentarily, but their attention was stolen once more by Professor Quirrell rushing into the Great Hall before anyone had started on their dinner.

"Troll—in the dungeon!"

Harry thought he heard something else mumbled from the man's mouth, but it was lost as the man collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

Harry sat frozen in front of his now-forgotten dinner while chaos erupted around him. A troll? Were those even real? He thought he could remember Quirrell mentioning them in class once, so he guessed that they were. Apparently, judging by the reactions of the students around him, they were just as terrifying as muggle fairy tales made them out to be.

Harry stood up—to do what, he had no idea—and looked around for Ron. He caught sight of him and pushed his way through the crowd to see that his friend was hysterical, his face scrunched up in fear. Harry's stomach was beginning to sink even more, terror building in his gut, but he brought his gaze up to Professor Dumbledore as purple firecrackers came out of the man's wand. The entire Hall grew silent.

"Students, follow your Prefects back to your dormitories immediately."

The headmaster waited just long enough to watch the older students take charge before gathering the teachers and hurrying from the Great Hall. Harry blindly followed the crowd of Gryffindors that were being led by Percy, Ron's older brother. They quietly mulled over how a troll could have managed to get inside the castle, but Harry stopped dead in the middle of a staircase, causing a group of second year girls to go around him.

"Hermione!" He frantically whispered to Ron. "She won't know about the troll."

He grabbed Ron's arm, but it took the boy a moment to concede.

"Fine, but if Percy catches us, I'll feed you to Fang."

The boys rushed off, Harry finding it in himself to scoff at the threat. Hagrid's boarhound wouldn't have it in him to eat a live mouse, let alone a human.

Hurrying toward the girls' bathroom, the boys didn't bother studying their surroundings after they had escaped Percy's group. Harry came to regret this decision as he ran headlong into a set of black robes.

"Potter! Weasley!" A cold, sneering voice echoed off of the stone walls. Harry wished for the ceiling to collapse on him, but had no luck. He pushed himself back from the potions professor, the boy's face a mixture of fear, anger, and embarrassment. "Why are you not with your housemates?"

"We were—erm—" he was saved from having to answer, however, by the sounds of a low grunt and large, calloused feet scraping against the floor.

A beast larger than anything Harry had ever seen was walking at the end of the left passageway, heading toward the girls' loo. Professor Snape pushed the boys behind himself, waiting for it to reach its destination. It was heading toward the lavatory. Once it crossed the threshold, Severus would have the monster cornered and incapacitated before it could cause much damage.

The boys could not read his mind, however, and Harry panicked when the troll entered the bathroom. He ducked under Snape's arm and ran towards the door, ignoring the yelling professor behind him.

Harry ran and slid underneath the beast's legs, quickly dodging its stomping feet. Ron came swiftly after him, to Harry's surprise but didn't have the same luck. He collided with a colossal foot, causing the troll to rear back, ready to attack. Harry grasped the boy's robes and pulled him out of the way as a giant club was swung toward him. The club barely missed him, but kept moving when it missed its original impact. Its momentum drove it in a full circle, letting it smash against the door, not only closing it, but also jamming it shut. A split second before the troll let out a roar, they could hear Professor Snape's expletives behind the sealed threshold.

A scream was emitted from a near-by wall as the crash and roar resounded around the room. Harry turned to find Hermione cowering on the floor and felt his stomach turn to lead when the beast headed toward her.

It reached her in two steps and raised its club. Harry acted on impulse, running toward the troll and leaping as its arm came back. He grasped onto the flailing appendage and held fast until it was held up to be examined. Harry made his way to the beast's shoulders before he could be thrown off.

Not the smartest move.

Harry assumed that the monster would not aim the club at his own head, but he was horribly mistaken. The troll's sense of self-preservation was wildly lacking, but its aim was not. It managed to catch Harry on the right shoulder, knocking him off to the ground with a loud _thump_.

Harry could hear Ron's use of _Wingardium Leviosa_, but did not see its results. His glasses had fallen off of his face upon impact and Harry's eyes were closed in pain. He heard a sickening _crash_ on the ground in front of him and felt the room shake. Everything was quiet.

Then the door burst open, revealing a fuming, spine-chilling Professor Snape.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it and would LOVE some feedback if y'all have a free moment or two :) Thank you all so much for your support!**


	7. Snide Remarks & Determined Promises

Disclalimer: I do not own the story of Harry Potter, the Wizarding world, or any of its inhabitants. They all belong to JK Rowling.

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for your reviews, follows, and favorites! And a big thanks to all of you who gave me the little push to encourage me to finish this chapter :) I'm sorry about the wait!

Chapter 6: Snide Remarks; Determined Promises

Remus' anxiety grew exponentially with each set of stairs that he climbed.

Upon his arrival at Hogwarts, he had waited at his usual location outside of the Entrance Hall. On Saturdays past, Harry had met him there within minutes. Today, however, nearly a quarter of an hour passed, and the boy had yet to show. Remus had crossed the threshold into the school and began searching the faces in the few groups of students within the Hall. There had been no sign of Harry's bright eyes or the vibrant hair of his counterpart. Remus felt a weight settle into his chest as his mind raced through the possibilities.

_Maybe he's made other plans. Maybe he doesn't want to meet today. I was foolish to just assume our routine was set in stone. Of course he'd rather spend time with his mates._

His sullen thoughts had been interrupted, however, by the sight of Albus Dumbledore descending the nearest staircase and making his way toward the dejected-looking man.

"Remus," the headmaster had greeted. "I'm afraid there had been an incident."

And thus, Remus tried to control his speed as he rushed to the Hospital Wing. While he was worried, he knew it would do no good for him to make a scene in front of the surrounding children.

He had nearly reached the open doors to the infirmary when a contemptuous bark caused him to still.

"Lupin!"

Remus sighed irritably. He didn't have time for this.

"Yes, Severus?" The werewolf was successful in masking his impatience, but only just.

Snape billowed toward the man in the frayed robes, ceasing only when he was less than a meter away.

"I'll have you know, Wolf," the professor sneered, drawing even closer to the scarred face before him, "that it is difficult enough to keep track of Potter with his inherited impetuosity. Now, with your influence, his actions were nearly fatal. I do not appreciate you making my obligation any more inconvenient than it already is."

"Well, Severus," The werewolf stepped forward as well, so that the two were nearly nose-to-nose, "With my _influence_ in his life, you no longer need to worry about being inconvenienced."

"You misunderstand—"

"_No_," Remus interrupted the other man as he felt his temper spike, but his voice remained low. "You misunderstand me. That boy is no longer your concern, Snape. You have no obligation toward him, nor to Lily, no matter what the last ten years of guilt have done to you. I've heard how you treat Harry, and I'm telling you now that it will stop. Stay away from him, Severus. Teach him, and that is all."

The men stood completely still—amber eyes flashing with a silent threat; obsidian narrowed in anger. Silence fell in the corridor.

"You will land the whelp in an early grave, Lupin."

"Kindly keep your opinions to yourself, Severus." Remus glared at his school rival for another moment before backing up and turning on his heel. He had wasted enough time on the bitter man as it was.

A cold breeze and the smell of antiseptic assaulted Remus as he entered the Hospital Wing. He took a moment to allow his senses to adjust while he searched the beds for Harry.

It didn't take long to find him. Toward the right end of the wing and directly in front of a window, the boy sat in a bed, rubbing his neck gingerly. Madam Pomfrey fussed around the left side of the room and nodded at the man in greeting as he made his way in the opposite direction.

"Harry," Remus sighed with relief as he neared the bedside.

"Remus!" Harry scrambled to get out from under the sheets, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Not just yet," The man said softly as he pulled the covers back over the boy. He drew a near-by chair to where he was standing and allowed himself to sit. "How are you feeling?"

"All right, I guess." Harry looked down at his hands, which were resting on his sheet-covered lap.

"I heard you had a nasty fall." Remus ducked his head in order to meet his eyes. It was a simple statement, but undoubtedly open-ended.

The boy across from him sighed and looked up at him sheepishly. He began to relate the tale of his adventure, from the disastrous Charms lesson to his impact onto the floor. Harry remained silent after his explanation, searching the man's face through his fringe.

"Oh Harry," Remus looked down and rubbed his forehead for a moment, "You promised me you would be careful."

The werewolf raised his head when he received no response from the eleven-year-old. The boy sat on the bed with his hands fidgeting, biting his lip.

"I'm sorry, Remus," he finally whispered.

Remus reached and grasped the boy's chin, lifting it in order to meet his eyes once more.

"I'm just glad you're alright."

He watched Harry's eyes grow large and a strange look take over his face.

"Really?"

Remus raised his brows at the question and released his hold to cup the back of the boy's head.

"Of course," he said forcefully, before ruffling his hair.

The two spent the next hour making companionable conversation, Harry describing his previous weeks' lessons, and Remus telling Harry about the renovations on his house.

"I do believe it will be presentable by the end of the week," the man said proudly.

"After all the work you've put in, I bet it'll be brilliant!"

Remus smiled at the boy's belief in his capabilities. He nearly refuted the compliment, confiding that he was neither the best handy-man nor decorator, but decided against it. What did it matter, anyway?

"So has Madam Pomfrey told you when you'll be able to get out of here?"

A displeased look graced Harry's face and Remus had to stifle a chuckle. The child was rubbish at hiding his emotions.

"She said I'll have to stay at least one more night… It was just a fall! I don't see what all the fuss is for."

"It was a fall from the shoulder of a _troll_, Harry. She's going to want to make sure you're well before sending you off."

The stubborn set of Harry's jaw grew more defined as he scowled at the matron's back across the room.

Remus couldn't help it. Between his glaring eyes and jutted jawline, the boy looked too much like a mixture of his obstinate parents for Remus to resist knocking him down a peg.

"Anyway, Harry, why is it that you didn't tell one of the prefects that Hermione was missing? He or she would have been able to send word to Dumbledore easily, and the headmaster would have seen to it that she was safe."

The question had the desired effect and Harry dropped his gaze to his knees. Remus had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the boy's mumbled response.

"What was that?" he asked cheekily, despite knowing his tone would not set a good example for the child in front of him.

"I didn't think to," Harry admitted as he looked up at Remus again.

"Well," Remus said, utilizing a slightly stern tone that he hadn't used since this very same boy had been messing with his Easter basket before the commemorative photos had been taken nearly ten years ago, "try to remember next time, hmm? Promise?"

He watched the child turn red and look down for a few seconds, no doubt remembering the previous promise that he had managed to break. Harry met Remus' eyes again, determination written on his face.

"Promise."

Remus smiled and tapped the boy's outstretched foot with his knuckle. That had been a trick he learned with James. When they, themselves, had been students at Hogwarts, James would go back on things he had said without thinking twice. It had driven Remus mad until he learned how to handle it. James Potter took promises seriously, and would sooner eat a live toad than purposely break one; Remus, as he got to know Harry more and more, was discovering that James had passed that trait on to his son.

After nodding to acknowledge the commitment, Remus offered a smile and changed the subject. Harry was happy to chatter on about the upcoming Quidditch match, and did so until Remus turned around to investigate a noise coming from the doorway. Ron Weasley and a young, bushy-haired girl were standing in the middle of the threshold, arguing in hushed tones that had no effect on their volume.

"I just want to _see_ him, Hermione!"

"He's supposed to be _resting_, Ronald," the girl said with exasperation. "Professor McGonagall said he would be out by tomorrow. You can see him then!"

"_You_ can see him then! I'm going to talk to him now," The redhead rolled his eyes and turned toward the bed, where Remus and Harry had been watching amusedly.

"Oh, erm," Ron's face turned a deep pink and he stopped mid-stride. "Hi, Harry; Remus,"

Harry didn't respond, but just let out a laugh. Remus took it upon himself to spare the lad from even more embarrassment.

"Hello, Ron. It's good to see you again. Come on over, we're just having a chat."

Ron shook himself out of his stupor and made his way to the bed, shoving Harry, who was still chuckling, on the shoulder. Remus, however, was still looking at the doorway, where the girl was still standing. She looked wary, but her eyes were inquisitive.

"Come on over," he beckoned. "Hermione, I take it? Very nice to meet you. I'm Remus Lupin."

He shook Hermione's hand as she drew closer and listened to her introduction and hurried explanation about Ron wanting to check on Harry, who she just _knew_ was going to be all right because Professor McGonagall had said so.

Remus listened to her long-winded story and heard the boys stifling laughs behind him. He had to suppress the urge to reach back and place a hand on Harry's knee in warning. When he had finally disentangled himself from Hermione's profuse reasoning for their visit, he took advantage of the newly begun bickering of Harry's two friends and leaned over to whisper in the boy's ear.

"Just don't forget what started this whole fiasco, hmm?" He saw Harry's face drop as his snickers immediately silenced. The memory of yesterday's Charms class was still fresh in his mind. Remus nudged the boy's shoulder with a couple of his fingers and gave him an understanding smile before continuing. "It's alright. Just give her a chance, yeah?"

Harry gave him a sheepish smile back. "Yeah," he agreed as Remus stood up. "Are you leaving?"

Remus winked at the boy to relieve his unease at the sudden departure.

"I am. I should be getting home to finish those renovations," he explained as he turned to the two children who had abruptly ended their argument. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Hermione, and it was great to see you again, Ron." He moved his gaze back to Harry. "You feel better, and get enough rest. You need to be in top shape for that Quidditch match."

Remus' heart lifted at the boy's resulting smile.

"I will," Harry nodded. "And thanks, Remus."

"Any time, Harry." Remus nearly laid a hand on the child's shoulder, but opted not to because of their company. He settled for another wink and a nod for the others as he left the infirmary.

Remus' mind was lost in the contentment that had resulted from his time spent with Harry. The boy was brilliant, and undoubtedly his father's son, but Remus found himself enjoying another aspect of the boy's personality. His joking, fun-loving nature was identical to that of his father, but his perception and need for assurance were straight from his mother. While Remus didn't enjoy that Harry had insecurities, and wanted to abate them whenever possible, he appreciated the boy's lack of arrogance. James had been one of Remus' best friends, but Remus had to admit that the man had been rather full of himself, and it had been a struggle for James to overcome that trait. He was pleased that Harry would not have to work through that same endeavor.

Remus' thoughts remained with Harry as he exited the castle and made his way to the front gate, which would lead him out of the anti-apparation wards. He passed a nearby grove of trees that decorated the lawn and groups of students scattered along the pathway. He paid no mind to the benign creatures that roamed around him, nor to the sun that was swiftly making its course westward. No, Remus Lupin didn't notice any of these things as he made the journey home, nor did he see two cloaked figures as he passed through Hogwarts' front gate—two men, one slender, one squat, enfolded within the trees; discussing their success.

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, thank you all for your feedback! It never fails to make my day :) Please let me know what you think—positive or negative, I like it all!


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